The Long Way Home
by ladybrit
Summary: Matt gets an assignment and Kitty receives a letter, both of which lead them on a cross country adventure. I never did like the episode The Long Long Trail so I came up with this alternate version. The story also includes a character from the episode Kitty's Rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

**Wagon Train / Long trai**l October 2013

Chapter 1

The US Marshal's office in Dodge City Kansas was the only brick building in town and the small army patrol that moved deliberately through the dust and chaos of Front Street was headed directly towards it. Captain Phillip Hanson was in charge of the small party and seeing the clearly written sign just to the left of the heavy wooden door, confirming that this was indeed the place he was seeking, he directed his platoon towards it.

Hanson was a man who had been raised in the Army, his father had risen through the ranks to become a general and he was desperately trying to live up to that standard. Unfortunately the spirit and intelligence that had helped his father achieve distinction was sadly lacking from his makeup. He thought he could make the men respect him by intimidation, but he soon found that what he received was only superficial acknowledgement, he was never looked at in the way the men had revered his father. If anything this only made him worse, he tried to find fault with all the little things such as a boot not perfectly shined or a button not perfectly fastened and as a consequence the men only tolerated him because of his rank, as a person he had no friends or respect.

The small group pulled up in front of the building, looking around he dismounted and instructed his sergeant to see that the men did the same. He stepped up onto the boardwalk and after a peremptory knock on the heavy wooden door, let himself inside the US Marshal's office.

It was only a short time since he had taken over command at the Fort that had given its name to the town and this would be his first encounter with the renowned Marshal stationed here. As a rule he had little time for civilians believing them to be unruly, undisciplined and generally an indolent group of individuals, but nonetheless there were times when one had to deal with them, and this was turning out to be one of those.

He looked around noting with disdain the somewhat disordered office, an open filing cabinet drawer, several dirty coffee mugs in different locations and an untidily made cot along one wall. He turned his attention to the small desk situated in a corner beneath a rifle rack and again saw only untidiness in the form of a scattered stack of mail and one more coffee mug that had obviously been sitting there for a while. Behind the desk sat a man who was busily writing, he continued at his task for several minutes before looking up at the Army Captain. Hanson was not used to waiting for acknowledgement, but once again put it down to ignorance on the part of the civilian population. Eventually the man put down his pen and looked up from where he was sitting.

"How can I help you, Captain?" he asked as he pushed himself up out of the chair behind the desk. As he rose to his full height Hanson realized that this man was about six inches taller than himself. Undeterred he removed his gloves and extended his hand.

"Marshall Dillon? I am Captain Phillip Hanson. I have recently taken over command at Fort Dodge."  
The army man was surprised by the way the lawman responded to him. He looked him straight in the eye and with no hesitation replied to his greeting. Most people were intimidated by his uniform and military manner, but not this man. Henson looked at the Marshal more carefully and noted his unshaven face and rumpled clothes. The lawman, being a representative of the United States government, should at least have made an effort to appear better turned out by this hour of the morning. Fortunately he did not put his opinion into words  
"Nice to meet you Captain. What brings you to Dodge?"

"The Army needs your help Marshal." It hurt his pride to say those words but in effect they were true. "There is a railroad surveyor, appointed by Washington who has just arrived at the Fort. He has been assigned the task of mapping out a suitable route for the continuation of the Santa Fe line, which will soon be pushed westwards from this city. As you know both the congress and the railroad companies are anxious to bring reliable transportation to this part of the country so that settlers and businesses can move out along the frontier lands. To put it plainly, he needs an escort to travel west from here to accomplish his task."

"Now wait a minute Captain, I am not subject to Army orders, nor do I work for the railroad." Matt had come from behind his desk and now stood looking at the Captain with thumbs thrust firmly in his belt. "In any case my territory ends at the Kansas State line and I hear that the proposed route will go to Denver and then turn south so I don't see how I can be of help."

The Captain smugly reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a letter that he handed to Dillon. The Marshal could feel a dread in the pit of his stomach and somehow knew he was going on a trip that could take weeks. He opened the letter that was addressed to him and had the governor's seal embossed in red wax on the back of envelope. The critical words were there

"…_.my office would appreciate your giving any help and assistance necessary to this project which is considered to be of vital importance to the State…." _

A few pleasantries followed and then the signature of Thomas A. Osborn, the governor himself.

Still feeling he had won a victory over this civilian lawman, the captain added to his conquest.

"Mr. Henry Johnson arrived at the Fort last night and will be headed here later today."

Matt continued to look at him with steely blue eyes. "I trust you will find it convenient to follow the governor's request," the Captain added. He still felt the desire to tell this Marshal to smarten up his appearance, but fortunately saw something in that weather worn face and steady stare that made him decide not to go that far.

"Why isn't the Army taking care of this, Captain?"

"The number of men I have at the Fort has been drastically reduced by the fighting with the northern Cheyenne. I had to explain to the governor that I could not spare a suitably qualified soldier for what amounts to escort duty." Hanson at least felt he was suitably demeaning the task at hand, which in turn indicated what he thought of the civilian lawman.

Dillon took a deep breath, sometimes he wondered why he did this job, not only was he charged with upholding the law, but from time to time these 'extra assignments' seemed to land at his feet and often they turned out to be more dangerous and time consuming than his regular duties.

The Captain started to turn on his heel to leave when he suddenly remembered something. Reaching into another pocket he pulled out a second envelope.

"This came in with the army mail – it is addressed to a Miss Kitty Russell who I believe resides here in Dodge. I would request that you pass it on to her, my men and I have other duties to perform now if you will excuse me."  
With that he left the office and Matt watched through the window as the small platoon headed off along Front Street. In his mind he cursed the Army in general and Captain Hanson in particular and was disgruntled to find that even that did not make him feel any better.

xXXx

It was a typical lunchtime in the Long Branch saloon in Dodge City, Kansas. This was a reasonably quiet time of year, the cattle drives were over, and most of the Texas cowboys had left town about a week or so ago and just a few stragglers, drifters and the occasional rancher remained. Most of the businesses and town's residents were grateful for the short respite before the cold weather of winter set in.

Kitty glanced up from washing beer mugs in the bar sink. Somehow she always sensed when the Marshal was standing there looking over the swing doors forming the entrance to the Long Branch. Some kind of sixth sense made her feel his presence. She could not stop the soft smile that crossed her face as she caught his eyes and watched as he surveyed the room before pushing his way through into the saloon. She pulled two mugs of beer and taking one in each hand, headed towards a small empty table at the back of the room. He followed her, still turning the envelope that the captain had given him, over in his hands, but now his eyes were on her. They both arrived at the table at the same time; he pulled a chair out for her and set the envelope down as he took the chair next to the red head. Using two fingers of his right had he slid the letter across the table until it sat in front of her.

"You look tired Matt", she said looking at him, too concerned to notice the mail. He had not managed to join her in the brass bed in her rooms above the saloon last night so that meant he must have been up until the early hours of the morning. The scrubby whiskers forming a dark shadow on his weathered face and the slept-in look of the clothes he was wearing confirmed her suspicion.

"By the time I got through sorting out those few stragglers from Texas who were trying to tear The Lady Gay apart, I had to wait on the late stage. The Sheriff from Cimarron was bringing a prisoner in for a one-night stop over until he could get on the Santa Fe this morning. The stage arrived about three hours late, so by the time I got to bed it was almost time to make morning rounds."

He took a swallow of beer, which did nothing to improve his mood and then pointed to the envelope.

"Some army Captain came by my office and dropped this off for you."

"Me?" she looked at the official envelope as if seeing for the first time, turning it over in her hands much like he had done.

"Well go on, open it."

She turned the envelope over once more then carefully opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a military insignia as a header. She unfolded the paper then read quickly through the brief paragraph, then read it once more.

"Well?" Matt said, curiosity getting the better of him. "Are they trying to recruit you or something?"

"It sounds serious, it's from the commander of Fort Wallace. He says they have a young lieutenant who was seriously injured in a battle with some Cheyenne Indians. He is in the infirmary there at the Fort and wants to see me."

" How could anyone expect you to get there? Who is this lieutenant anyway?"

"His name is William Critt."

Matt searched his memory for a minute –"You mean the young southern gentleman who came here from New Orleans or somewhere and wanted to defend your honor."  
"That's the only one I know."  
"I can't believe he's a lieutenant in the army!"  
"Me neither – but that's what it says."

She passed him the handwritten note, signed by the Fort Commander.

"Where is Fort Wallace Matt?"

He shook his head and she watched as his dark curls muddled themselves in the air.

"It's a long way from here through some dangerous country."

"Well can I take a stage or something."

"The Stage Line doesn't go there. It's right in the north western part of the state – Almost to Colorado."

"There must be some way to get there."

"Yes, you can ride a horse."

"Maybe you could take me there."

"Oh no Kitty, don't even think that. It's dangerous country, it gets mountainous there and it is easy to lose the trail. To add to that it's used as a hideout by bands of renegade Indians and gangs of outlaws who look upon any poor traveller as suitable prey. That's why the Fort was put there, to protect the wagon trains heading west on the Smoky Hill Trail."

Kitty had more sense than to pursue the subject further. It was obvious that the Marshal was tired and after his night's work not in the mood for a long discussion. Even so she kept thinking of Billy Critt and somehow could not even imagine him in an army uniform – especially as a lieutenant. She would work on the problem at a more suitable time.

xXXx

The Marshal's mood did not improve as the day went on. Several people told him he looked tired – not surprising when he considered that for the previous three months he could count his nights of uninterrupted sleep on the fingers of one hand. Most had been spent trying to keep bands of wild drovers from killing each other, or him, or trying to tear the town apart. Then last night had been no picnic - but all that was negligible compared with the unwelcome new assignment he had received – and he still had to break that news to Kitty. And then there was Billy Critt. He shook his head and went back to his office to finish writing two reports he had started that morning.

It was later in the evening when a young man dressed like he had just got off the stage from St. Louis stopped him in the street.

"Marshal Dillon?" he enquired, indicating the badge on Matt's shirt.

"Yes", the tall lawman replied carefully. Sometimes that same question led to a gunfight with someone with a grudge against the law – or someone hired by someone else.

"Henry Johnson," the young man thrust his hand out and smiled from ear to ear. To begin with the name did not mean much, but then he remembered Captain Hanson.

"You're the surveyor for the railroad."

"That's right, my wife and I have been so looking forward to meeting you."

"Your wife?"

"Well of course, we have only been married a month and so there was no way I could leave her behind. Anyway we plan to settle around Denver so we thought this would be a good way to make the trip. She is back at the hotel with my apprentice. All our survey equipment should arrive on the Santa Fe tomorrow."

Matt lifted his hat with one hand and rubbed the back of his head with the other. This man had no idea of the territory they were heading into.

"Look Mr. Johnson this trip is not going to be a Sunday school outing. We will be crossing tough terrain with all kinds of dangers, not to mention Indians, outlaw gangs and other undesirables. This is not going to be a family outing."  
"Oh we are prepared for that, Marshal, just wait till all our equipment gets here tomorrow and you'll see. How soon can we get started?"

"I need to see how much equipment there is and what arrangements need to be made before we head out." He shook his head. "Just come and tell me when everything is here."

He watched as the young man took off along the street, oblivious to all the dangers that lay ahead of him.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**The Long Way Home**

Chapter 2

As was usual for the time of year, once the sun went down the air became cooler quite quickly. After the long dusty heat of a prairie summer, some residents of Dodge City took the opportunity to wander out into the pleasant evening air. Many of them stopped to exchange greetings with the Marshal as he made his evening rounds. It was still early and he knew he would have to walk around the town again later, checking doors and alleyways once the saloons were closing up, but he took this opportunity to be seen by citizens so that they knew the law was on the job. He was about to walk into the Long Branch saloon when a vaguely familiar voice called his name.

"Marshal Dillon!" He turned to see Henry Johnson a few paces behind him. A young lady with long blonde hair held in place by a fashionable hat was holding onto his arm. She didn't look to be more than eighteen years of age and judging from her manner of dress this was the first time she had ever left the comforts of an eastern city.

"Marshal Dillon," he repeated, and then with a lot of pride and tenderness in his voice continued, "this is my wife, Mrs. Abigail Johnson."

Matt lifted his hat, "Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Johnson."

"We have just received word that all our equipment will be here on the noon train tomorrow. Your state governor has been most kind in arranging everything for us."  
Indeed he has, thought Dillon, but he just looked at the young innocent pair and wondered how on earth they were going to cross more than a hundred miles of prairie with all its dangers. He doubted either of these two had lived in the open for days on end, sleeping on the ground, bathing in streams and cooking over an open fire. He shook his head minimally and looked at the enthusiastic innocence of the young couple standing in front of him.

"Just come and tell me when you have it all here and we'll see what can be arranged."

Matt resumed his walk along Front Street and without even thinking about it found himself at the doors to the Long Branch.

"Who's that you were talking to Cowboy?" He looked down to see Kitty sitting on a bench outside the saloon, just appreciating the cooler air.

He smiled at her, trying not to make it seem important.

"Just a young man who works for the railroad. He's here to do some surveying or something, so he brought his young wife along."

Kitty had known this tall lawman for a long time. She could tell that what he was telling was not the whole story. She also knew better than to push him right now. Matt always considered himself well able to question a prisoner and get to the truth but Kitty knew that, where he was concerned, she could do a much better job. She planned to have the whole story before morning.

For the first time in many weeks Dodge was quiet that evening and so after making his late night rounds Matt was able to head up the back stairs to the peaceful sanctum above the Long Branch. It seemed such a long time since he had spent an evening alone with the beautiful red head that his first inclination was to pull her onto the big brass bed, but she obviously had other ideas. The stove was lit and the room was warm. Two decorative oil lamps were burning giving a soft amber glow that reflected off of the shiny threads in the heavy brocade drapes. Two fine crystal brandy snifters sat on the small table next to the settee. She came up to him and put her arms around his neck, looking into his face. There were more lines there than there used to be, but the lips and eyes showed the same feelings that she had always seen.

"Sit down Matt and lets enjoy a little Napoleon." She went to the dresser to retrieve a glass decanter that matched the snifters and carefully poured a generous measure into each.

He was sitting on the settee now, removing his boots, she noticed him fighting with the right one – he always had difficulty with that. She knelt down to help ease it from his foot, then took both boots and placed them in the corner by the dresser. She had already loosened her hair and changed into more comfortable night attire with an attractive pale blue robe covering the more flimsy gown underneath. To him it was as if she floated across the room to his side, then, taking up the two glasses she handed one to him.

"Here's to us Cowboy."

He smiled to her guiltily, he knew how she was going to feel about his upcoming assignment, but didn't want to tell her just yet. Unable to say anything suitable he touched her glass with his before taking a swallow. The soft warm liquid was always a welcome way to relax before bed. He had missed this time so much during the last few weeks. She allowed him a little a little longer to get comfortable before starting her quest for information.

"So tell me about that nice young man you were talking to this evening. Looks like he has a pretty young wife."  
"Yeh, he said they've only been married about a month."

"Strange that they should be way out here, looks like they both belong in Chicago or New York or somewhere."

"I'm not sure where they came here from."

"You said he's an engineer or something," she leaned forward and casually put her glass on the table so she could take his calloused hand in hers. The poor man was tired she could see that, and this was like child's play to her. She felt a little guilty taking advantage like this, but it may be her only chance.

"A surveyor."  
"Oh that's right. What does a surveyor do?" An innocently asked question to which she already knew the answer.  
"It's his job to determine the best route for the railroad to take. You know trains run best if there are no steep inclines along the path the track takes and it is up to him to use maps and other equipment to figure that out."

She reached forward and poured a little more brandy into his glass, and added a little to hers – but not as much.

"Isn't the Santa Fe supposed to go from here west towards Denver."

"Yes that's right." The warm glow from the fire, and the softness of the alcohol were making him feel more relaxed than he expected. He could sense her soft gentle hand against his arm, he could almost go to sleep right here and feel perfectly content.

"That young man doesn't look like he's ever been west of Washington. How is he going to find his way to Denver?"  
Big warning bells went off in his head.

"Let's not talk about that tonight. There are much more important things."

She had found what she needed to know, just by his reaction, she had no need to make him say it. She knew where Denver was, and he had told her that Fort Wallace was northwest. At least that was more or less the right direction.

She smiled to herself and allowed him to lead her to the bed. He had been so busy while all those Texans were in town that their nights together had been few and far between. She felt his hands easing the robe from her shoulders as she loosened his gunbelt. What followed was something that had grown out of an early passionate love into a quiet soft appreciation of each other's bodies. She just wanted to enjoy this moment of closeness and worry about tomorrow when it came.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Long Way Home**

Chapter 3

As usual Matt awoke before Kitty was even stirring. He eased himself from the bed, gathered his clothes, quietly dressed then made his way down the side stairway into the small alley beside the Long Branch. He liked this time of day. Everything was new again as the dawn chased away the darkness of the previous night. The air was still cool and, for Dodge, relatively fresh and sweet smelling.

Once in his office he got the stove going and put the coffee pot on. He still had some reports to finish and while his morning dose of caffeine was brewing he set about taking care of them. If he was going to be gone for several weeks, he needed to get the last of the paper work taken care of. The governor's letter had assured him that someone would be assigned to watch over Dodge while he was away, but the paper work was his responsibility.

Several times over the next hour or so he stopped and ran his fingers through his hair a time or two, then got up and paced the floor. What was he going to tell Kitty? Somewhere at the back of his mind he was aware that she had already guessed. Somehow last night she had figured out what was going on. He had no idea how.

An hour or so later he had almost finished his reports when the door opened and the young surveyor entered with a large leather roll tucked under his arm.

"Good morning Marshal. I brought the maps of the intended route to you if you have time to look at them."

Matt was taken back by the young man's appearance, his city suit was gone and he was wearing a brand new "cowboy" outfit complete with new boots, plaid shirt, spurs, chaps and Stetson. It all looked strangely incongruous. Mr. Jonas must have had a hay day outfitting the poor kid. Fortunately he had not given him a gun, but even so, if he walked around town dressed like this he was going to be in trouble. He would have to have a talk with Jonas!

Matt cleared the small square table in the middle of the office and Johnson spread out his map, there was a blue line extending westward from Dodge City mostly following the course of the Arkansas River. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought. He knew that area pretty well.

"I thought the plan was to take the line to Denver."

"This branch is going to Pueblo – then a cut off from Denver will join up with it. There are some mining interests that needed the railroad to come their way – so the plan got changed. That's why they sent me here, the route has been drawn on paper but no one has surveyed it. "

The two men stood looking over the map, each buried in his own thoughts. The surveyor was excited that he had been entrusted with this task and Matt was trying to calculate how many days he would be gone from Dodge – and the owner of the Long Branch.

The men started to discuss the trip and what supplies they would need and where they could get more along the way if necessary. As far as the Marshal was concerned a few cans of beans and some jerky along with a little coffee to wash it down was all that was necessary – but Johnson had a young wife and he thought they would need a little more. The discussion masked the sound of the door opening and the owner of the Long Branch stepped inside.

"Hello Matt," she looked at him briefly and then at the map spread out on the table. Matt watched her – still feeling a little guilty – "Oh Kitty," then he remembered his manners, "this is Henry Johnson – he's a surveyor for the railroad. Mr. Johnson – Miss Kitty Russell."  
"Pleased to meet you Ma'am." Young Johnson was impressed by the woman in front of him. Her hair, her clothes and the way she carried herself showed nothing but confidence. He had not seen a woman like this before.

Kitty leaned over the map and gave the young man her most seductive smile, he could smell the light perfume she was wearing.

"Oh how interesting, this must be the continuation of the Santa Fe." She looked carefully at the map, asking him what different symbols meant and what towns were along the proposed path. He was totally mesmerized by her, hardly having sense to answer her questions till he pulled himself together.

Matt knew she was planning something – he could just feel it. Kitty knew how to get her way.

"Mr. Johnson – you understand I don't know a whole lot about maps – could you ..er..show me where Fort Wallace would be, I have a friend there."

"Now Kitty.." Matt started – but she gave him a look that quickly closed his mouth.

"Yes of course ma'am," the young surveyor couldn't be more obliging, "It's a little north of where we're going to be. There is a lot of hill country up there but I expect one day the railroad will find a way through."

Dillon just raised his eyes and knew that come hell or high water, Kitty was going to get herself to Fort Wallace and she would be a lot safer if he took her. He looked hard at Johnson till the man looked back at him.

"Didn't you say your surveying equipment was arriving on the noon train, I think you have about ten minutes to get down to the depot to receive it."

"Oh yes marshal – I'll go get my apprentice and we'll see about getting everything unloaded. I'll come and check with you later." He was rolling the map and tying the leather cover as he spoke."

"It was really nice meeting you Miss Russell."

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you again later Mr. Johnson," she said so sweetly and bestowed another beguiling smile on the young man who couldn't help but feel he had just stepped into the middle of something he did not understand.

As the door closed she turned to face the tall lawman, the soft smile still in place.

"That is interesting don't you think, Matt?"

"Kitty, don't get ideas."

She smiled at him as she headed for the door.

"I'll see you later Matt."

He sat down, suddenly quite tired, but prepared to make one final effort to finish the paper work. Maybe an hour passed and he finally put the last report in a brown official envelope and sealed it ready to take to the depot. Getting up from his desk he went to check the coffee pot and in doing so did a double take on what he saw through the window. There coming along Front Street were two covered wagons, one behind the other, he hadn't seen that sight in Dodge before, most Wagon Trains did not pass through this town. He was even more curious when they pulled up outside his office, then his worst fears came true, a young man climbed down from the lead wagon, a young man dressed in brand new 'cowboy' gear, Henry Johnson, Surveyor.

Matt took his hat from the peg by the door and planted it firmly on his head. This was going to be a long few weeks.

xXXx

The young surveyor was eager to show off everything he had had brought from back east.

In the first wagon there was actually a bed – not much smaller than the one in Kitty's rooms. There were pots and pans and several pieces of furniture.

The second wagon was driven by a young lad, named Carl Thomas. Matt looked at him and realized he wasn't yet old enough to shave.

"This is my apprentice Marshal." Matt knew many kids of this boy's age who had grown up on the prairie, and were well able to take care of themselves, but this was a city boy, with no clue. Could things get any worse?

"And what do you have in the other wagon?"

Apparently there were some clothes, containers of flour and sugar, even a small stove and right at the back about three instruments needed for the survey along with a shovel and a pick.

"Look Johnson, this is not going to work. We can put the stuff you really need in one small wagon and get this job done as quickly as possible."

Somehow he should contact the governor and get this whole thing called off.

"But you don't understand marshal, it's like I told you, Abigail and I plan to stay in Colorado and make our home there." He looked at the eager young faces in front of him and knew that some how he would have to work with what he had been given.

This was not going well at all. Now he was going to be leading a wagon train with a young man and his young wife and an even younger apprentice. None of them had any experience driving a team along anything but a city street and he doubted any of them knew how to use a gun. Worse still he knew someone else was planning to join them – but at least she knew about life on the prairie and could use a shotgun. He shook his head and walked across to Delmonico's – maybe he just needed something to eat.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**The Long Way Home**

Chapter 4

That evening The Marshal, as usual made his way up the outside stairs to what he considered his hidden sanctuary above the Long Branch. He knew what was going to happen, she would insist on coming with him on this cross-country trek. He would try to talk her out of it but in his heart he knew the decision was already made and he would have no choice in the matter.

The next two days were spent getting the few necessary supplies together for the trip, and then early on the following day it was a strange party that headed out of Dodge. Dillon was leading the way on his big buckskin, followed by two covered wagons. The first had the surveyor and his wife up front and two spare draft horses tied behind. The second had Kitty and the apprentice with a spare riding horse following. Matt had watched the young boy try to handle the team and hoped that maybe Kitty could teach him what he needed to know about horses before they hit the rougher parts of the trail.

To start with they were travelling a fairly well used road and it was easy going. Johnson and his apprentice would stop every mile or so to take measurements with the instruments from the back of the second wagon. Whatever Dillon thought of their survival skills on the prairie – he had to admit that they seemed to know what they were doing as far as surveying was concerned. Lining up sights and taking readings seemed to take them only a few minutes then they would be back in the wagons and ready to move on. Sometimes they would leave a marker but always the surveyor wrote a whole page of numbers in the note book he carried. Come evening when they would stop he would unroll the map and transfer all his numbers onto it with a red pencil.

Matt decided that this trip wasn't all bad. The cooler air of fall was very pleasant and he had to admit that he enjoyed watching Kitty as she instructed young Carl, the apprentice, on how to handle a team. The boy was a fast learner and the red head certainly had his undivided attention. On the second day Kitty asked Matt to saddle the spare horse and she would ride with him, letting the youngster get the feel of the horses without her help. She was dressed in a tan colored riding skirt and a simple white blouse. Her hair was twisted in a braid and her broad brimmed hat was tied with a big bow under her chin. Matt kept looking at her as she rode beside him on the sorrel gelding he had borrowed from Moss Grimmick and the more he thought about it the more comfortable he became with the arrangement.

Gradually, as they headed west, the route to be taken by the railroad parted company from the main trail they had been following and the going became a little slower. Their first obstacle came on the third day. The river tuned north to make a big loop before returning to its westerly course. The railroad planned to build bridges over the river rather that take a fifty-mile detour. The water was a little higher than usual but Matt didn't think it would be a problem, and crossed to the other bank to make sure the footing would be good for the teams. He called to Johnson, telling him to urge his horses forward. He got back in the water and stopped the buckskin mid stream so he could encourage the animals to move on. They had a little difficulty getting up the opposite bank, but made it safely.

Matt crossed to where Kitty and the apprentice where still waiting. Kitty, he knew, was an experienced horsewoman and would have no difficulty crossing. He called to her to come on and saw her safely across. Now the last wagon, he was once again standing in the middle of the stream and yelled to the boy to urge his team forward. The young man was a little timid and the animals, sensing his nervousness, became anxious themselves. They hadn't even got to the middle of the crossing yet and were already refusing to move, stranding the wagon and its passenger. The horses began to whinny and were trying to break loose from the harness.

Matt didn't have a choice, he spurred his own horse over to the wagon and grabbed the lines to the horse nearest him and began to pull, encouraging the animal to move forward. He used his own horse also – hoping that the draft horse would be persuaded by its herd instinct to follow his own. The water was splashing around him as the horses kicked and reared, he could feel it running down inside his boots. "Crack that whip over them", he was yelling to the boy, who seemed lost and confused. The Marshal called to him again as he tried to move the animals forward. They were still panicking but if he could just get them moving forward they would forget to be scared. He was about to jump from his own horse and try to get on the back of one of the draft animals when instead he took his hat in one hand and brought it down on the croup of the animal closest to him, yelling at the same time to encourage him forward. At last the horses decided it was less scary to move on than to stay where they were in the middle of the water.

"Drive them on now" he yelled to the boy "don't let them stop till you get clear of the other bank."

Eventually both wagons and riders were safely on the far bank – but Matt knew that after a few more miles they would have to re cross the river – before then he needed to have a talk with young Carl, the apprentice, and explain how a horse's mind worked. Maybe he should just have taken over the second wagon himself – but the boy had to learn.

Johnson was already running over to the wagon and checking his surveying equipment making sure it had not got wet. Everything seemed to have survived the crossing without damage.

"I need to take some measurements here Marshal, it may take a while."  
Matt was quite pleased for a short break, he was cold and wet and beginning to feel that he was not as young as he used to be.

"Matt are you all right?" Kitty was coming up towards him.

"Yes I'm fine, how about a little coffee."

"You build a fire and I'll fix some."

Half an hour later Kitty and Matt were sitting on a fallen tree limb by the fire, drinking coffee and watching Johnson as he directed his apprentice and called out numbers to his wife, which she wrote in the ever present notebook.

Matt had removed his wet boots and wrung the water out of his socks, leaving them to dry by the heat from the fire. He sat there beside the only woman who could have persuaded him to bring her on a trip like this and reached over to place a quiet kiss on her cheek.

"Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all." He squeezed her hand and she looked at him laughing.

"You mean you have someone to make coffee for you, don't you?"

xXx

Later that evening they made camp. The second river crossing had gone much better and when they stopped for the night Matt fashioned a couple of fishing poles and sent the surveyor and his apprentice to catch supper. Surprisingly they did very well and after the catch was cleaned Kitty volunteered to cook them. Matt was still trying to teach Carl about horses, how to set up a line and secure them for the night, and how to feed and water once they were cooled down from their days work. The boy was anxious to make amends for his mistakes earlier in the day and from now on he agreed to assume responsibility for care of the animals.

The first two nights on the trail Matt had made a bed of sorts in the second wagon for Kitty, but tonight she told him she wanted to be with him next to the fire. At first he had several legitimate objections, but as always Kitty got her way.

The moon was about half phase and the night became cool and crisp. The fire had burned down to red glowing embers and the light sweet smell of wood smoke wafted on the air. Johnson and his wife were in their wagon and the apprentice was sleeping near the horses. Kitty and Matt had the fire to themselves so Matt had set out two bedrolls.

"Are you sure you want to do this Kitty – the prairie can be quite uncomfortable to sleep on."

"I'll manage." She looked at him with a sly grin.

They lay side by side, looking up at the constellations scattered across the darkening sky. The red star Aldebaron was hanging like a small dim lantern in the east as the moon gradually disappeared behind the hills to the west. Now without its light the sky became even darker, the only light coming from the soft glow of the fire and the small points of light above. Matt reached over and grabbed one of the pieces of wood he had stacked within reach and pushed it into the embers. A whole stream of sparks rose up like fireflies launching themselves into the night. He stretched his arm towards Kitty and pulled her close so she could lay her head on his shoulder.

"Are you still glad you came?" he asked her as his fingers rested in her still braided hair. She snuggled into him.

"I think I can understand why you like to be out here. Sleeping under the stars like this does have a calming feel to it."  
"It's not always as quiet as this, but I must admit that when it is, it brings a peace to my mind that nothing else can. In some way it helps make up for all the violence and meanness I see.

Her hand went to his face.

"This is part of what makes you who you are Cowboy. I think I understand a little more about you now."

She thought about the number of times he had come home smelling of prairie dust and wood smoke, now she understood where that part of him came from. She drifted into a peaceful sleep not even noticing the discomfort of sleeping on the ground. As was his custom the Marshal rested but did not sleep much, instinctively listening for any sound that did not belong.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dillon figured it would be two more days, three at the most, before they arrived at the western border of Kansas and met the railroad men from Pueblo. The trip had been pretty easy so far and he worried that Kitty did not understand all the dangers they would face when heading on to Fort Wallace. Maybe Critt was no longer alive – if he had been badly injured enough to send for Kitty – their journey could be in vain.

He watched as his beautiful red head rode a few paces ahead of him. Her back so straight as she sat in the saddle, the long braid of red hair had escaped from beneath her hat and bounced in the sunlight with each step the gelding took. He could happily watch her all day, but knew that Johnson would be ready to stop and take more measurements any minute. He drew level with her.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, thinking she might be tired. They had been riding steadily for the last three hours except for the brief stops that the surveyor needed. Her clothes were not as clean and neatly pressed as they would have been in Dodge. She wore very little make up, but even so her skin looked fresh and vibrant. He could not understand how she did that. He thought about his own trail worn clothes and dusty appearance and it made him smile. This was a side of Kitty he did not usually get to see and he was appreciating every minute.

She turned to him and smiled.

"It's quite a change from the noise and smoke of the Long Branch but maybe I could get used to this."  
He let his mind wander – maybe a small ranch on the edge of the prairie, a few cattle and horses, a quiet life for him and his lady, maybe even a few children. Soft gentle evenings, no rounds to make, no gun lying in wait in an alleyway. Then he came back to the reality of the badge pinned to his shirt and knew there would always be someone out there, someone with a grudge or a young kid trying to make a name for himself by being the one who brought down Matt Dillon. Johnson calling from the wagon behind him mercifully pushed that thought out of his mind and he turned in the saddle to see what he wanted.

"I need to stop and take some readings here Marshal, before we lose daylight."

Matt looked around – they were close to the river and there was a small grouping of trees that would make a good campsite for the night.

"Let's stop here tonight. When you have finished your measurements, get the wagons unhitched and a fire going. I'm going to find some meat for supper."

He checked his rifle and headed off towards an area of grass close to the river that he had spotted riding in. Hopefully towards evening some of the antelope and other game would come there to drink. They had had a good supply of fish for most of their travels but Matt thought it was time they had some meat and game was plentiful out here. Also he wanted a little "alone" time to sort out those thoughts he had had. Was it really so important that he continued as Marshal? Did this badge really mean so much? He spurred his horse on the buckskin responded with an easy lope.

It took him barely a half hour to reach the place he had seen, looking around he saw some bushes where he could tie his horse and also be somewhat hidden himself. There were already a few animals headed towards the water, but something else caught his eye. Fresh tracks made by horses without shoes, and a few made by moccasins. He had not seen any Indians earlier in the day and he had been on the lookout. Sometimes the Sioux or Cheyenne came this far south and neither were good company. These tracks may be four or five hours old at most. They had probably come here for the same purpose as he, looking for game. He followed the tracks and concluded that they had left and headed north, but he would have to be careful.

It wasn't long before a herd of antelope came to the water's edge. He watched them for a while enjoying the sight of the wild animals peacefully grazing and drinking in the evening light. He always enjoyed the natural sights of the prairie and to him it was a sad fact of life that as more settlers moved in, the animals would slowly disappear. Despite those feelings he had no qualms about taking one for food. His aim would be true and death would be instantaneous, the animal would not suffer. He spotted his target, a medium sized beast off to his right, slightly apart from the others. He raised his rifle and holding his breath, squeezed the trigger. The antelope fell where it had stood and after stowing the rifle back in its boot he led the buckskin towards the water and hefted the carcass up behind the saddle. They would all eat well tonight.

He arrived back at camp to find the fire lit, coffee made and a pan of biscuits ready to go over the heat. He saw Abigail's face as she looked in horror at the dead animal on his horse.

"You killed it," she said accusingly.

"There are many more out there," he told her, "I only took what we will eat tonight. I know you eat meat back east – where do you think it comes from?"

He had butchered the animal away from the camp site and Kitty made stew with the meat and the last of the vegetables they had brought with them. As they all sat around eating, Matt explained that he wanted them to leave the area very early next morning possibly before daybreak. Kitty could sense by his manner that he had seen some kind of danger out there but didn't say anything. Later that evening when she asked him about it he told her he had found the tracks, maybe Sioux or Cheyenne, he thought they were a hunting party looking for food the same as he was, and having got what they wanted had headed north. Just to be safe he wanted to leave the area tomorrow before first light.

As usual he slept little that night. Kitty had asked him to get the other men to take a turn at watch – but typically he only trusted his own eyes and ears. He knew what he was listening for and could watch for soft shadows where there should be none. She had sat up with him for a long time, just talking softly in the glow from the fire, but eventually he had persuaded her to go sleep in the wagon. He would be waking everyone soon.

He woke the apprentice up before it was light, telling him to feed and water the horses, and then get them hitched up. He had already scattered the remains of their fire and eradicated most of the signs of the camp.

As they set off he showed Johnson the direction to head, then took off to ride north and cut a big circle to cross back behind their trail. All the time he was looking for signs that they had been detected and were being followed, but he found nothing.

An hour later he had returned to the wagons and agreed to a short break for the benefit of the horses. The trail was becoming more rugged now and the surveyor needed to stop more often, even so Dillon kept them moving as quickly as possible, he wanted to put at least 20 miles between them and the place where he had seen the Indian tracks before nightfall.

It was almost noon before he began to sense they were being followed. He had back tracked along the trail behind the wagons several times and found nothing, but the instinct that had saved his life so many times in the past, told him there was danger. It felt like the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up like the hackles on a dog sensing something wrong, or icy cold needles in his spine that refused to go away. Something was not right. He spurred the buckskin on to catch up with Johnson in the lead wagon and rode along side him.

"I want you to keep a loaded rifle to hand and keep moving. About 5 miles ahead there are some rocks which will give us some cover."  
"You think there's going to be trouble, Marshal?"  
"I don't know, but I think something is wrong. I'm going to have Kitty ride with Carl. When you reach the rocks, unhitch the teams and pull the wagons as close together as you can."

"Where are you going?" He had to shout now to be heard above the noise from the wagon wheels on the rocky surface.

"I'm going to circle round again and see what is going on."  
"By my map we are only about fifteen miles from the railroad camp now."

"Do you think you can find it."

"Certainly I can – maps and bearings are my business."

"That's good – rest there where I told you for an hour, if nothing happens and I'm not back I went you to move on. I don't think you will make that distance before dark but I want you to try."  
"Very well Marshal."

Matt touched his hat towards Jenny, then spun his horse to head back to the second wagon where Kitty was riding alongside.

"Something wrong Matt?" She could always tell, if his words didn't tell her his face and eyes always did.

"I don't know, I just have a feeling that I need to go back along the trail for a few miles and make sure nothing comes up behind us. The next time they stop to take readings I want you to tie your horse behind the wagon and ride with Carl – make sure you have a loaded rifle ready just in case."  
"You're pretty worried aren't you? Do you think its Indians?"

Matt looked at her, trying to make light of the situation.

"It's probably nothing but I want to be safe. I told Johnson to stop about 5 miles ahead at the entrance to a rocky pass. Wait there for an hour then if nothing happens I want you to continue on to the railroad camp."

"What are you planning on doing?"  
"I want to make sure no one comes up behind us while we are crossing through that narrow part of the trail." With that he gave her that boyish almost shy grin that she found so endearing, then he turned his horse and headed off back the way they had come.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Johnson was not enthusiastic about taking charge of the small party of travellers, and accepted the responsibility with reluctance. He had come to rely totally on the big Marshal and his knowledge of the prairie.

As instructed he kept the wagons moving, stopping from time to time to take readings of elevation and compass bearings as were necessary for the railroad. He worried about his own safety but also the safety of the women and his apprentice, he only now understood the pressure that had been placed on Dillon these last few days.

Using the map – which he found was not totally accurate - he led the way to the beginning of the rocky area that Dillon had described. He had just pulled his wagon up to the rocks as the marshal had told him, when things began to go wrong. The second wagon went over a particularly large rock and as the wheel landed back on the hardened soil there was a loud snap and the rear corner of the wagon dropped to the ground. Carl jumped from the box and looked at the damage, although he had little understanding of what had just happened. He looked up to Kitty and she gave him her hand so that he could help her down then she walked to the rear of the wagon and joined the two men who stood looking in dismay at the wreckage.

"Looks to me like the axle has broken." Kitty could see the surprised looks on both their faces.

"What can we do about that?"

She shook her head in amazement. Everyone knew how to fix a broken axle.

"I bet Matt bought a spare with all the supplies he loaded. Lets go look." She hitched up her skirts and walked briskly to the back of the wagon. Sending Carl to move all the supplies around she watched as he moved barrels and sacks and at last saw it.

She pointed to it – "There it is, I knew he'd bring a spare. There should be a long board in there to use as a lever."

From the way Johnson and the apprentice looked at the spare axle and the board, it was obvious that they had never done this before – or possibly never even seen it done. They had no idea.

"Maybe we should just wait on the Marshal," Johnson suggested.

"For a start you can be getting some of that stuff out of the wagon, we need to lighten the load."

It was beginning to get dark and it became obvious that they were not going to get this finished before nightfall. Kitty looked around at the assembled group and realized how much she missed Matt's presence. He would have had the wagon repaired and they'd have been on their way an hour ago.

"It looks like we are stuck here for the night."

They all looked at her expectantly.

"Do you think we'll be safe, I know the Marshal was worried about Indians?"

"We don't have much choice. I suggest you two men take turns keeping watch, maybe Abbie and I can fix a little supper. We better light a small fire – I'm not sure what wildlife there may be in these hills, and Matt was worried that we were being followed, so lets hide the fire behind some of these rocks."

The men looked at her – this was the first they knew about keeping watch.

It took a while to get things going, but after wood was gathered and a small fire lit, they had coffee and what was left of the antelope stew from the previous night. The damaged wagon was temporarily abandoned. The two women would spend the night in the remaining wagon and the men would take turns keeping watch. Kitty hoped that at least one of them would stay awake.

The night was quite cold and Kitty missed the warmth from the lawman's closeness. Sleeping on the ground next to him had been much more restful than the comparative comfort of Johnson's wagon.

"You've known him a long time haven't you?" Abigail asked her as they were getting ready for bed.

Kitty smiled and had a distant look in her eye. "As much as anyone knows him", she replied, pulling the brush through her hair.

"How long have you – well…been together,"

Kitty gave a little half laugh.

"I guess that depends on whose eyes you look through." She put down the brush and turned to face the younger woman.

"How long have you been married?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Almost a year, and don't get me wrong, I love Henry and he loves me - but there is something between you and the Marshal that is deeper than love alone."

Kitty's lips formed a half smile and her eyes saddened as she looked down at her hands.

"Matt is a good man, one of the best, but that piece of tin on his shirt is the only thing that he is devoted to. Maybe one day he will take it off and then," she paused to take a breath, "well who knows."

"You're going to wait for him aren't you?"  
Somehow Kitty pulled herself out of her reverie.

"How old are you Abbie?"

"Almost nineteen," the girl looked with questions in her eyes.

"You were about 7 years old when I arrived in Dodge. Matt was already trying to tame that wild town. Somehow we became friends and…. well."

"I know he loves you, just by the way his eyes smile when he sees you."

Kitty gave another half laugh, she knew that much. "Sometimes he has a hard time showing it."

"I have known Henry since we were kids. Somehow I always knew we would be together for always. I am hoping he can make enough money from this railroad project that we can buy a piece of that land they are auctioning off and start our own ranch."

As she lay there trying to sleep, Kitty thought about the dreams of the young woman next to her, compared with how her own life had been. She thought of Matt and worried a little that he still had not returned from scouting the trail, how many nights had she spent worrying about him? Why on earth had she let that man and his badge take her heart in the first place? She had no answer to that question but knew she didn't regret it for one minute. There was no other man that could ever take his place.

xXx

Loud strange noises greeted her as she awoke. Screams and yells that did not come from Johnson or his apprentice, and then a loud thud as something hit the wagon and caused it to shake. Abigail woke in alarm.

"What is it Kitty, what's happening?"

Kitty was pushing her arms into a blue robe.

"Stay here," she told the girl.

It was hardly dawn and just a little light crept in through the gap between the flaps of canvas covering the wagon. She could see Johnson scrambling for one of the rifles. Looking to her left there was a high ridge about a quarter of a mile away and streaming down from there, like wraiths from the mist, was a line of Indians on horseback, whooping and yelling their way towards the wagons. The closest ones were already firing arrows.

"Abbie, get dressed quickly, we have to find a place for you to hide in these rocks."

She was not scared for herself – she would stay and load rifles for the men – but it would be tough for a pretty young girl like Abigail if the Indians found her.

She climbed down from the wagon, Johnson was taking aim with the rifle and now Carl had joined him. Kitty was not sure how much use the young man would be, his face was drained and she thought he would be too scared to fire. Matt had spent time teaching both of them how to aim at targets placed in trees – but she knew from experience that it was different when the target was alive and moving.

The loud report of a rifle exploded in her ears. "Johnson," she yelled at the man, "don't fire till they get close enough that you won't miss."

"It doesn't look good." She could hear the fear in his voice.

"No there are too many of them. I'm going to take your wife back up into those rocks and find her somewhere to hide. Hold them off as long as you can."

The Indians where beginning to circle, just out of shooting range of the rifles.

Where was Matt, she surely missed his presence – but somehow it was good – maybe he would be safe.

xXx

Matt rode back the way they had come. He kept watching both sides of the trail but saw nothing that looked like Indian tracks. After an hour and a half or so he slowed his pace and turned south towards the Arkansas. He continued up a small rise from where he could look down on the river. It was narrow at this point and as a consequence the water was moving faster. The sun was low in the sky and the shadows were long, but not so long as to hide the young Indian girl wading into the water. Matt thought there was a good chance she could be swept away by the current. She kept looking back over her shoulder as she tried to push her way forward through the turbulent water. Suddenly two men appeared from the trees along the rivers edge. He heard them screaming to her but could not make out the words from where he sat. From her reaction he could see she was running for her life. He could also see that the men chasing her where white – not Indian. Spurring the horse beneath him to move forward, he pulled his gun from its holster and headed for the River.

He jumped off the buckskin about fifty feet from where the men were in the water already grabbing at the girl. He thought for a minute they were going to hold her under and drown her, but instead they dragged her to the bank and started hitting her. He ran forward, gun in hand not really sure what he was going to do, but knowing he did not like men who beat up on women.

"Hold it, I'm a United States marshal, get your hands up and leave the girl alone!"

One of the men pulled a gun and turned around firing, his bullet went wide, but Matt's found its target and the man fell to the ground. The other man was stunned for a minute, but still had hold of the girl. She was struggling and got in a position where she stamped hard on his foot and managed to break away. For a minute it looked like he would go for his gun, but the sight of his partner lying on the ground made him hesitate. Dillon ran forward and grabbed his gun. "Sit down there," he said to the man indicating a rock by the water's edge, "and don't move."

The girl was standing there looking stunned. He guessed she was Cheyenne from her clothes and using a combination of sign and his limited knowledge of the language he moved slowly towards her.

"Haahe," hello, he said as he moved slowly towards her, he did not want to scare her any more than she was already. "You are Cheyenne?"

She nodded.

"Netonesehe?"

She answered that her name was Silver Dove. It took him a while but he finally understood that these two men were buffalo hunters. They had come across the camp where her father and two brothers were waiting for a hunting party to return. She had gone to fetch water from the river when they had come upon the camp and killed the men. They found her and took her with them, made her cook their meals and share their beds. They would beat her regularly, that was why she was trying to get away.

She was crying now, still half scared of Dillon.

"I'm a lawman," he told her. "I am going to try to get you back to your people and this man will be punished for what he has done."

She seemed to understand him and her crying slowed. She was young, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen. He went towards the man still sitting where he had placed him.

"What's your name?"  
"Jake Whitton, what's yours?"  
" Marshal Dillon. Who's your partner?"  
"Hal Thomas."

Neither of the names meant anything to him. He was certain he had not seen them on any posters.

"Get up, you've got a grave to dig."

The girl stood and watched while the white men buried the dead one. She was scared of all white men now. These were the first she had ever met and two of them had taken her and killed her family. This tall one seemed different, but was he? At least he could speak some of her language, maybe she should trust him, but she would be careful. She should run away but where to? How would she find her people? Now that her father was dead who would want her. There was a young brave, Dark Hawk, he wanted to take her as his wife, but her father had said she was too young and the brave had yet to prove himself.

Tall White Law had taken the other man, the one that had taken her and killed her family. He had put the law bracelets on his wrists and made him mount his horse. Now he was walking towards her, telling her to come with him, he would take her to the Fort and the Indian scouts would help her find her people. She looked at his eyes, they were the color of the sky. She had never seen eyes like that before.

"Come on." His words were accompanied by a smile that came from his eyes as well as his lips. She would trust him for now.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Wagon Train/Long Trail

Chapter 7

Matt was leading the way back to the path the wagons had followed earlier. He was ponying Jake Whitton's horse and Silver Dove was following just a half pace behind. She was unaccustomed to riding a saddled horse so did not put her feet in the stirrups but somehow, taking the horse belonging to the dead white man, did seem like some kind of justice.

Matt figured it was about fifteen miles to where the wagons would have rested by the rocks. They were now travelling at a much slower pace now than when he had ridden out this way. The light was already fading and he did not want to continue riding with a prisoner in the dark, there would be too much risk. He was hoping the wagons had made it through the pass by now and well on their way to the railroad camp.

Before night fell he pulled a little way off the trail.

"Get down off your horse Whitton," he instructed the man. The prisoner had been complaining about the handcuffs or telling Matt that no jury would hang him for killing a few Indians ever since they had left the river. In fact he seemed quite proud of himself and what he had done.

The lawman pushed him over towards a tree, undid one of the cuffs and threaded it through a stout branch before fastening it back.

He turned to find that Silver Dove had already jumped down from the horse she was riding.

Whitton started yelling obscenities at the young girl as she walked towards them. Matt wanted to back hand him and send him to the ground – but he would not strike a cuffed prisoner. Whitton didn't stop, after a while the Marshal could stand it no longer. He took off his gun belt and threw it on the ground then indicated to Silver Dove to stay out of the way. He released the man,

"Now Mister let's see if you are man enough to fight someone your own size."

Silver Dove watched in horror as the two men exchanged punches and then rolled on the ground, first one and then the other on top. The man with the sky blue eyes was more powerful but the man who had kidnapped her was fighting for his life. He picked up a handful of dirt and threw it at the lawman's face.

Matt staggered for a minute and cleared his eyes, which gave the kidnapper chance to dive for the gun that had been thrown to the ground. Now he could see again and saw Whitton going for the gun. Silver Dove watched in horror as they grappled for the weapon. She could not tell who had control of it when a loud explosion cut through the night. Neither man moved for what seemed a long time, finally she drew a breath as Blue Eyed Law got to his feet rather clumsily, he was alive. The other man did not move.

Silver Dove was frightened now, there was a look on Law's face that she did not understand. She took a few more breaths and gathered her courage.

"Oneeotse?" she asked him, wondering if he was hurt.

He shook his head. "No I'm fine. I guess I just I don't like killing." She did not understand his words, but continued to stand there looking at him, half in fear.  
He made an effort to explain how he felt in the language of her people, trouble was he was not very good at explaining things in English, let alone with his limited Cheyenne vocabulary. She watched as he picked up his gun and placed it back in its holster, but said nothing. He could see her standing there, away from him with her arms wrapped around herself as if in fear. He wanted to tell her everything would be all right, but right now he didn't have the will power. He had a body to bury. He should never have let Whitton goad him into a fight like that. The man's death was his fault.

The effort of burying the body had calmed him somewhat and he set about finding enough wood to start a fire. Silver Dove hadn't moved and he was aware of her dark eyes following him still with fear behind them.

" I'll fix some supper," he told her. He had some beef jerky and a can of beans in his saddlebags together with some coffee. He could still feel her watching him as he worked. Finally the food was ready, he signed to her to come sit by the fire and held a plate of beans out towards her. Timidly she came closer and took the food, still keeping a wary eye on him, but at least she looked a little more relaxed.

Later he set out two bedrolls, leaving a distance between them and indicated to her that she should sleep on one. He took the other, but as usual did not sleep much.

xxx

The night passed without incident and they were back on the trail by the time the sun was up next morning. Silver Dove was surprised that White law had not approached her during the night. She had thought all white men were as the other two had been, but this one was different. He was kind and treated her with respect. He had even removed the saddle from the dead man's horse and turned the animal loose, somehow he cared.

They rode steadily for another two hours. Suddenly he pulled up, hearing something. He told her to stay quiet while he checked it out.

Matt rode forward to where he could see the rocks he had told Johnson to head for. The scene shocked him. Both wagons were there and about 20 Indians where arranged in a line in front of them. This was no hunting party, he could tell that by the way they were dressed. The Indians were starting to move towards the wagons as Silver Dove came up behind him. He could see Johnson and Kitty with rifles at the ready behind the wagons. He should go help them, but he did not know how he could stop what looked to be an all out attack on the small group.

He was so intent on the scene in front of him that he did not notice Silver Dove come up beside him.

"Manahestotse!" she told him, pointing to the Indians moving towards the wagons.

He understood "family", were these her people? He tried to stop her but she urged the horse she was riding forward into a canter. He started to follow her – to bring her back – he didn't want her to get hurt after all she had been through. Then he stopped, she was yelling at the top of her voice and attracted the attention of the leader of the group. He had turned around as she approached him, and was now listening as she recounted what had happened. Matt remained still and quiet, not wanting to attract attention and cause the attack on the wagons to resume. Then the Indian and Silver Dove came riding towards him, he raised his right hand in universal greeting. The man was riding an Appaloosa with black and brown markings, and from the way he was dressed the lawman thought he must be the son of a chief or of another important elder of the tribe.

They stopped about ten feet from Dillon and the Indian raised his right hand in greeting.

"I am Wooden Lance," the man said

"Matt Dillon," he replied

"Silver Dove tells me you are white people's law man."  
"That's right, I'm a United States Marshal."

"White man's Law has not been good to my people."

Matt could say nothing – he knew of many treaties that had been broken and the Indians dealt with unfairly. He could not blame them for the way they felt.

"Silver Dove says you rescue her from two white men who killed her family and kidnapped her. She says you are honorable man."  
To begin with Matt had no reply, then he said

"Those people in the wagons there, they are my friends."

"We thought they were the ones who had taken Silver Dove. We were going to take her back."

"We would not have done that Wooden Lance."

The Indian turned on his horse and looked at the rest of his people and called them towards him.

"We will go now. You proceed on your way. I thank you for bringing Silver Dove back to us."

The young girl turned to follow the rest of the Cheyenne, but at the last minute turned back and smiled at him.

"Neea'e," she said before following the others. Thank you

He smiled a little and sat watching as they headed off into the distance. Then he turned his attention back to the wagons and the people he was supposed to be taking to the railroad camp.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What was that all about?" Kitty asked, coming out from behind the wagon as Dillon rode up.

He got down from his horse and stood surveying the scene before him, for a minute or two. She looked closer at him, he was tired and she could see a bruise developing under his right eye.

"They were looking for the girl," he told her handing his horse to Carl and telling him to cool him down and give him a drink.

"I came across her out on the trail, a couple of Buffalo hunters had taken her."  
"Looks like you had to fight for her," she said pointing to his face.

He didn't reply but walked over to the crippled wagon.

"Seems we have a little work to do before we can move on."

Abigail had come down from her hiding place in the rocks to join them.

"I'm glad you're back Marshal," she told him but he didn't have much to say in reply.

"Johnson, come with me, we have work to do." He picked up the spare axle and the long plank and looked around for a rock to use as a fulcrum.

"Bring that over here," he told the surveyor pointing to a suitable one. He inspected the wheel and it seemed to be unharmed. Placing the rock in a suitable position he used the board to lift the wagon and got Johnson to find another rock to hold the wagon up while they changed the broken axle. Everything worked out first time and in under and hour they were reloading the wagon and preparing to head off through the pass towards the railroad camp, Dillon was hoping they would get there by nightfall. He didn't want to spend another night on the trail.

xXx

It was almost dark when they left the pass behind them and Johnson took a reading and pointed the direction to the camp saying it was only about five miles ahead. At last as darkness came they could see lights in the distance. In the clear air they seemed to hang there like stars that had frozen to the landscape. As the wagon party got closer some men came out to greet them and lead them in.

The camp was like a small town with rows of tents lining each side of a dirt street. All types of people were coming and going, food was being served from one tent and another one acted as a make shift saloon. They had been expecting Johnson's arrival and the camp boss whose name was Bill Gleason came to welcome them. One of the tents was set aside as his office and living area. After Johnson had shown him the map with all his references drawn in, he invited everyone inside to eat.

The food was not bad considering the circumstances and the whisky he brought out afterwards was equally mediocre, none the less both were welcome.

There were some small tents at the end of the 'street' and Gleason told them they were welcome to sleep there for the night.

The camp was obviously set up to impress any visitors who came this way. Senators, businessmen, potential investors, everything was designed to show them how organized and successful the railroad company was.

The tent Matt and Kitty found themselves in had a few pieces of furniture, a small bed, a bedside table and two chairs at a square breakfast table. There was an oil lamp already lit at the bedside and a pitcher with some water on a washstand. Gleason had assumed that they were man and wife and Matt had decided not to enlighten him to the contrary.

In spite of its Spartan furnishings, the small tent felt warm, Matt lowered the single lamp and sat down to pull of his boots. As usual kitty helped him with the right one.

"You look tired, Cowboy. You can sleep tonight, the camp has its own guards." Her fingers explored the bruise on his face and she noticed that the knuckles of his right hand were skinned.

"What really happened out there?"

As she changed into her nightgown he gave her a brief account of finding Silver Dove and the two Buffalo hunters.

"What did you do with them?" The minute the question left her mouth she understood the cause of his mood.

"They're both dead," he said quietly.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." He was silent for a few moments. "Just come and lay next to me and sleep."

He was tired, all those nights barely sleeping, the killings he felt responsible for and then the effects of the rough whisky, he needed to close his eyes and forget. He felt her lie down next to him, there was not a lot of room, but it didn't matter, he could hold her in his arms and the world would be all right.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

That night at the railroad camp was the first night Matt had really slept since leaving Dodge, and the rest had improved his mood considerably. In the early morning light that seeped through the canvas tent, everything took on a fresh new look and the faces of the two men he had been forced to kill began to fade from his mind's eye.

Kitty was still there cuddled close to him, mostly out of choice but the small size of the bed had prevented any other option. Locks of her long red hair lay scattered across his shoulder and pillow and even after days on the trail he thought he could still detect the delicate scent of lavender amongst the strands.

Carefully he slid his arm from under her and turned on his side to look at the face he dreamed about so often. She must have felt his stare because after a few minutes her eyelids opened to reveal the china blue eyes he loved.

"How long have you been awake?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Hush," he whispered, "don't wake the whole camp. I thought we might have a little quiet time together."

Gently his hand pulled her face to him and his lips skimmed lightly across her cheek to land softly on her mouth. Slowly, carefully their bodies intertwined beneath the rough blankets covering the bed. There was no urgency as the warmth of love invaded their minds blocking out all other sensations. It was a quiet familiar tenderness that engulfed them until at last they separated to lie relaxed and quiet, side-by-side on the narrow cot, as the sounds of morning grew more intense in the world outside.

It was a while later that Matt was up and getting dressed, intending to go find some coffee from the camp kitchen. It was still early but many of the railroad workers were up and already eating breakfast in the mess tent. He saw Johnson there, with his ever-present map spread out on one of the large trestle tables, apparently explaining work that needed to be done before the next length of track could be set. Matt watched him for several minutes, surprised that the quiet and sometimes bewildered man he had known on the journey from Dodge, now seemed so alive and commanding. The men were listening to him, asking questions and pointing to his notes on the map. He handled everything calmly and professionally, secure in his own knowledge and abilities.

A few more minutes passed and the men he was directing drifted away. The surveyor rolled his map back into its protective leather case and looked up to see Matt watching him.

He smiled and came over, his whole demeanor had changed, this was his territory now, and he understood and felt comfortable in it. Even his step was confident as he walked towards the coffee pot where Dillon was standing.

They exchanged greetings and the conversation turned to plans for the next few days.

"The track coming from Pueblo should be completed to this point in about another week," Johnson was explaining. "From here we will head northwest to plan the cut off that will connect with Denver. Abby and I will probably stay here at the camp for another two or three weeks before heading to Denver ourselves. What are you and Miss Russell going to do?"

"I'd like to be heading back to Dodge, but I suspect we will be going to Fort Wallace," Matt explained with a grim smile.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Dillon headed back to the tent with two mugs of coffee in hand. There was still quite a chill in the morning air and, if possible, the mud and trash along the makeshift street was worse than in Dodge. At least it was not his problem. Unlike his town, this one was temporary and in a few months it would be folded up and moved on, leaving only a few scars on the landscape that time and the prairie would soon erase.

When he entered the tent, Kitty was already dressed and putting the last twist into her braided hair.

They sat at the small table for a moment before he asked her, "Do you really want to go on to Fort Wallace, Kitty?"

Hands clasped around the mug, enjoying the heat from the coffee, she looked up at him and he knew the answer to that question without going any further.

"Just making sure," he said smiling. Somehow this woman always got the better of him. In the course of his job he faced down gunslingers, bank robbers and convicted murderers, without fear, on a daily basis, and most of the time came out on top – but with Kitty he knew she would always get her way. Once she had her mind made up all the talking in the world would not change it. He accepted the fact that they were going on to Fort Wallace.

Three hours later they left the railroad camp and headed north. The surveyor had given them one of the two wagons they had brought from Dodge, saying that he and Abigail would only need one to get them to Denver.

They made good progress, but as they headed north the temperature dropped significantly and that first night they were grateful for the meager shelter the canvas covering the wagon provided.

The following morning seemed like any other. The air was dry up here and the early mornings chilled but around noon, when the sun was high in the sky, the temperature would rise sufficiently to make it uncomfortably hot.

Matt had pulled the wagon off of the trail to give the horses a rest. There was a certain smell in the air. At first he couldn't identify it, then a long forgotten memory awoke from somewhere in his past. Fire! There was a small rise off to their right and he made his way to it and rapidly climbed the small incline. There it was in the distance, coming from the southwest and heading straight for them. The flames shot high into the sky, even from here the sight was terrifying. He ran back to where Kitty was still sitting in the wagon.

"We have to get moving."

"What's the matter?'  
"Prairie fire, we have to get out of here fast."

She had never seen fear on Matt Dillon's face before, but thought she could see it now. She had never witnessed a prairie fire herself but had heard stories of the horror.

He jumped up on the wagon calling out, "There's a river to our east about a mile or so – if we can get there before the fire we have a hope."  
He grabbed the lines and whipped up the horses. Kitty was holding onto the box trying to keep from falling off and the buckskin tied to the back of the wagon was running scared, neck stretched out, nostrils flaring and galloping away from the devil coming up behind him.

Kitty kept looking back and could now see the black smoke rising up behind them. A hot dry wind was pushing the fire closer towards them, the distance narrowing with every stride. At last she could see the river ahead, but the smoke was overtaking them now and Matt was driving the horses even faster. As the smell of the fire reached the animal's nostrils, a primitive fear propelled them forward with very little need for encouragement. Matt took a bandana from his pocket and yelled above the noise of the wagon and the roar of fire behind them.

"Put this over your nose."

At last the water was in front of them, the horses needed no coaxing to charge headlong into it. Matt hoped there was good footing for them, because there was certainly no time to get down and check. Fortunately the water ran wide but not too deep and finally the animals were slowed by the climb up the opposite bank.

"I'm going to keep moving." He had to yell to be heard above the cacophony of noises from the roar of the fire, the horses and the wagon. At last he risked a glance back behind them. The fire was all the way to the river bank they had left just minutes before, but he knew it was only a temporary boundary and sooner or later a few errant sparks would find their way across and the flames would start up once more. He just hoped they would have enough time to get clear before the fire started anew.

They were heading northeast now, away from Fort Wallace, but they had little choice. Maybe if they could get far enough away they could turn more northwest and skirt around the inferno. The horses were all lathered with sweat from exertion and fear, they would have to stop soon and give the animals a chance to get their wind. Once the roaring of the flames was less noticeable, he eased the animals down to a walk not wanting to stop them too suddenly while they were so hot. A few more minutes and he glanced back again, there was still smoke rising in the air in the distance but it was further behind them now. At last he brought the wagon to a halt and jumped down to check on the horses.

"We can't stop long, but they need a break." He was wiping them down as he spoke.

By late afternoon they felt safe, the smoke was no longer visible on the horizon and finding a small creek Matt thought it would be a good place to rest for the night.

Tomorrow they would have to work their way north to get back on the trail to the Fort.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It was late the following afternoon when Matt decided to pull the wagon off the trail and make camp for the night. They had made good progress that day and even though the prairie fire had forced them to make a detour, he figured if they got an early start tomorrow they would get to the Fort by late evening. He had been pleasantly surprised by how uneventful the trip had been, certainly not what he had expected. There had been the fire, of course, but they had even escaped from that without injury to themselves or the horses, and now he had found a perfect campsite for the night, set back a little from a small creek and a low cliff face hollowed out behind it. There were many small trees scattered along by the river that would give them plenty of cover.

Having unhitched the horses and gathered some firewood Matt decided to go find a rabbit for their supper. Kitty came up and hugged him as he took his rifle from its saddle scabbard.

"Don't be long Cowboy," she whispered.

He unwrapped his arms from around her then strode off towards a small gully leading away from the creek. Glancing back he could tell that the wagon and horses where well hidden and because of the number of trees and bushes they were barely visible unless you walked right into them. They should all be safe here.

Kitty climbed into the back of the wagon and began looking among the remains of their meager supplies for some thing to add to the meat that Matt would bring back. She found some beans and a little corn and was about to leave the wagon when the sound of voices caught her ears. Carefully she looked between the flaps of the canvas cover, and the sight that met her eyes made her hand fly instinctively to her mouth. Three Indians on horseback were making their way to the waters edge on the opposite bank, presumably to drink. She hoped they didn't cross the creek because if they did they'd be bound to see the wagon. Gently she eased the flap back in place, unconsciously holding her breath. Everything was silence except for the muffled voices drifting across the water. She was certain they would not find her unless they came a lot closer, but her heart beating in her throat seemed so loud that she thought they must be able to hear it from where they were. She remained frozen to the spot for a minute or two then began looking around for a weapon. The only thing to hand was a shotgun that Johnson had left in the wagon for them. Carefully she was reaching her fingers towards it, trying not to make a sound when the silent air was suddenly broken by the deafening crack of a rifle; somehow she knew it was Matt. The Indians, instantly alert, jumped back on their mounts, then yelling and waving bows in the air, they headed for the place where the noise had come from.

Kitty was used to facing down drunken cowboys and even the occasional gun slinger in the Long Branch, but this was different. She knew her methods would not work with those braves. Then for one horrible moment she understood what their presence meant and why they had rushed off. Matt, Matt – what was happening to him? If the Indians found him ..she couldn't bear to think about that – she had made him come this far, he had tried to tell her about the dangers and she hadn't listened. Quietly she climbed down from the wagon and seeing no sign of the Indians made her way towards the place where she thought the rifle shot had come from.

She was running now, through the scrub and bushes along by the creek. She could feel them tearing at her clothes and legs. Her heart was pounding – almost jumping from her chest. Matt, Matt, his name was playing over and over in her head. Hurry, hurry, it was as if she could not move fast enough, there was an urgency in her that made her have to run to him. At last the undergrowth gave way to an open area. Slowing down she tried to stay hidden and at the same time look across the prairie stretching in front of her. She could see the Indians disappearing into the distance to her left, then in a moment of horror she saw him, just lying on the ground, not moving. No, no – after all the times she had watched him face men with guns in Dodge, he could not die out here in the middle of nowhere. The Indians had gone from view now and she ran forward towards him. He was not moving. As she got closer she could see the arrow in his shoulder. He still wasn't moving. Taking control of herself she knelt down at his head.

"Matt," she said softly, touching his forehead.

He groaned and she let out the breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

"Oh Matt, I thought you were dead,"

"I think they did too," he managed to say.

She looked around almost desperately. The Indians had taken his rifle and the colt that usually hung by his hip.

"What can I do Cowboy."

He took a few shallow breaths before answering.

"Help me up Kitty, we have to get back to some cover."

He was holding onto the shaft of the arrow to stop it from moving. His face was so pale and she could see the pain in his eyes as he tried to sit up. She knew he was right, they were sitting targets out here.

As gently as she could she helped him to his feet and put her arm around his waist. He half stumbled as he leaned into her. Step by painful step they made it back to the camp.

To Dillon it was one of the longest walks he had ever taken. Every step jarred the arrow and sent waves of pain through his chest and down his arm. He tried to hold it still with his right hand, but truthfully it didn't help much. Somehow he hung on consciousness, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and taking shallow breaths so as not to increase the pain. He had to remain alert, without him Kitty would be lost out here.

It seemed hours had passed before they finally got back to the wagon.

"Sit here a minute Matt, while I clear a space in the wagon for you to lie down." She eased him down onto a large rock where he could lean against an old angled tree trunk. If he passed out, there was no way she would be able to get him up off of the ground. She had to get him into the wagon.

In a few minutes she returned for him.

"Come on now, lets get you in here so's you can lay down." She had made a palette on the floor of the wagon with some blankets and a pillow. Somehow she got him inside and lying on his back. She thought for a minute had he lost consciousness, but then she felt his hand take hers.

"Listen Kitty," his voice was raspy and his breathing was ragged, "This arrow has to come out, I hate it but you have to do it." She went to say something but he stopped her, "I won't be able to help you but once you've removed it you have to cauterize the wound, you know how to do that don't you?"  
"Yes Matt." She was biting her lip, thinking about what she was going to have to do.

He took some more grunting breaths.

"If I…well if you need help there is a lady I know lives in these parts. Her name is Godie Baines." He stopped again trying to keep his mind focused on what he was telling her.

"Her place is about twelve miles northeast of here." He paused again.

"Don't try to talk Matt."  
"Have to ..tell you. Go back to the trail we were on, …east about five miles, cut off to the north….follow it about seven or eight miles, small shack. You'll find it."

She tried to soothe his forehead.

"Promise me you'll go there. She will help."  
Just to make him rest she agreed.

xXx

Kitty sat in the back of the wagon feeling very alone. She had finally managed to remove the arrow from Matt's shoulder although it had not been easy. Twice she had tried and failed but eventually desperation took over and gave her the added strength necessary. Matt had passed out with the final tug that set it free. She would never forget the scream that escaped his lips before he lost consciousness. She had a small fire going and immediately took one of the fire irons and heated it in the flame. The small of burning flesh assaulted her nostrils, but at least he was not awake enough to know what was going on. She made him as comfortable as possible then sat by his side for a while wondering what would happen if the Indians returned and found them. Those thoughts led her to check the one remaining shotgun they had and make sure it was loaded.

She must have dozed off for a while because the next thing she knew Matt was tossing his head from side to side and mumbling words that made no sense. She felt his forehead and found that he was feverish.

It was still dark as she made her way to the creek to get some cold water to bathe him with and hopefully bring the fever down some, but by morning he was no better – indeed she thought he was hotter than he had been earlier. Now for the first time she was really scared. For a start she knew he would not have been out here if she hadn't insisted on this trip to Fort Wallace, secondly there was not much she could do for him. He needed Doc, but the physician was miles away.

She began to think about what he had told her. Godie Baines – that was the woman's name. She remembered the directions he had given her and decided that right now it was her only option.

It was hard work hitching up the team and all the while Kitty's thoughts were on the man in the back of the wagon – the man she had virtually forced to come out here. Her insides felt nervous and uncomfortable, she could not do things fast enough. The buckles on the harness seemed harder to fasten than she had ever known. She forced herself to slow down and take some deep breaths. "Come on Kitty Russell," she thought to herself – or maybe she had said the words aloud, she wasn't sure, "concentrate on what you are doing, it's the only way you can help him." At least she was proud of the fact that she had the forethought to make him crawl into the back of the wagon while he was still able, there would have been no way she could have lifted him, and the thought of leaving him there on the creek bank while she went for help, was unacceptable.

At last she had the horses hitched to the wagon – and Matt's buckskin tied behind. She went back inside to check on the man before climbing up on the box and taking the lines in hand.

She was well able to handle this team – they had travelled all the way from Dodge and she had driven them earlier when she was helping young Carl. Added to that the run from the fire a few days ago had worn them down.

She pulled the wagon out from its place beneath the trees and got back onto the trail.

A cut off to the north after about 5 miles, that shouldn't be too hard to find. She pushed the team on as fast as she dared. The occasional groan she heard from the back of the wagon troubled her – but at least it meant he was still alive. She had no idea who Godie Baines was. It never ceased to amaze her how Matt, usually a quiet man of few words, knew so many people, not only in and around Dodge, but way out here in the wilds of the prairie, almost to Colorado.

After she judged they had travelled the five miles, she started watching for the turn off. Even the main trail that she was on was rough and washed out in parts, so a side trail would be easy to miss.

After one or two false alarms she found it. She turned the wagon off the trail she had been following and stopped about a hundred yards further on. Maybe if Matt was awake enough he could tell her if this was right, but no such luck.

She had no choice but to continue on. This trail was even rougher than the one she had left, so eight miles could well take two hours or more. She had to keep going, it was their only hope.

There was a place where she had to take a dangerous detour because part of the track had been washed out, but fear for what might happen to Matt if she did not find help drove her on.

After she thought they had travelled the eight miles she found herself in the middle of desolation, it looked as though no human had passed this way in years.

She got down from the wagon and poured some water from the barrel into a small bowl. Carefully she climbed back inside and set about wiping his face with a dampened cloth.

"Come on Matt, wake up, I need your help." She shook him gently, careful to avoid his shoulder.  
His eyes opened a little, but the gaze was not focused and she knew there was no help coming from there.

Once more she climbed back on the box, now feeling exhausted from worry and guilt.

The only thing to do was move on.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Her mind made up, Kitty urged the horses forward and must have travelled for another half hour at least before she saw something in the distance that could possibly be called a shack. It was run down and looked like a good gust of wind would blow it away, as to whether it was inhabited or not she had no idea but, as she got closer, she could see that the trail she was on – such as it was – ended in a small corral just past the building.

She approached what she guessed was the front door, and tapped gently on it – fearing it might fall down from the slightest blow.

"Hello," she called anxiously, "is anybody home."

At first there was no reply, then a gruff but female voice answered, "Who wants to know?"

Encouraged by the fact that at least someone lived here she continued.

"My name's Kitty Russell," she replied tentatively. "I'm a friend of Matt Dillon."

Suddenly the door opened and a very weathered looking woman of undeterminable age appeared. Her clothes were dirty and well worn and on her head was a felt hat that had probably been planted there many years ago and forgotten. The woman stepped outside reaching for a rifle that was propped just inside the door as she did so. Then the wagon caught her eye and she went to investigate,

"Where is he then?" Her voice was demanding but not unkind.

"He's in the back, Ma'am, he's been hurt."

The woman looked at her, - "Don't call me Ma'am, m'names Godie." As she spoke she flung the canvas flap aside and looked inside.

"Sonny," she called out, "just what's happened to you?"

"He took an arrow in the shoulder. I got it out but he's got a fever now, and I couldn't get it to break."

Godie climbed up in the back of the wagon and looked at Dillon. His face was flushed and his eyes unfocused. She felt his forehead and reached for his wrist to check for a pulse.

"We'd best get him inside, come and give me a hand."

Kitty was surprised by the strength of the woman; somehow between the two of them they got Matt into the shack and on to the only bed. Godie watched as Kitty started to undo the buttons on Matt's shirt – "I can see you've done that before," she observed – with something approaching a smile. "I'll go and warm some water."

Matt reluctantly fought his way to consciousness. The pain in his shoulder seemed to invade every bone of his body. The blue eyes that sought Kitty's were reddened and cloudy.

"Where are we?" he tried to ask, knowing his voice was barely audible because his tongue felt thickened and lazy. Somehow she understood him and taking his hand in hers she quietly tried to sooth him.

"We're at Godie's, Matt, it's going to be all right, just giving you time to rest for a few days."

He was still gazing at her with half focused eyes when Godie returned with a bowl of warm water and some clean rags.

Once they had eased the shirt off from his shoulder, Kitty could see that the whole area where the arrow had been was red and angry looking.

Godie set about cleaning it with the warm water and soft rags she had brought. She looked up at Kitty.'

"I need to go find some medicine for this. You stay here and keep him quiet. I'll get us some supper while I'm out." Then she turned to her patient, "You stay quiet now Sonny – I'll be back soon."

Kitty picked up a reasonably clean cloth and dampened it to wipe his face again.

Matt was still half way alert in spite of the fever that whipped around the edges of his mind. Kitty decided a little conversation wouldn't hurt anything.

"Why does she call you Sonny?" She was curious, thinking she knew, from the little he had told her, that Matt's family had all died in a cholera epidemic. He had only been spared because he was working herding steers for another rancher, miles away at the time.

"Everyone who comes this way becomes part of Godie's family." His words were halting but she was glad to hear him making sense after the fevered ramblings of a few hours ago.

"Godie said she was going to get some medicine for you, I'm not sure where she'll find anything around here."

"She knows," was all he said before his head fell to one side and he was asleep again.

Kitty got up and walked around the small shack. She was just reaching to put some more wood into the stove when a rifle crack cut through the quiet. It brought back vivid memories of a few days ago, but she was able to relax when minutes later Godie appeared in the doorway with rifle tucked in the crook of her arm. In one hand she had what looked to Kitty like a few weeds and roots, and in the other a good-sized jackrabbit.

"Put a little water in that pot, and heat it on the stove," she told the younger woman and when that was done she dumped plants roots and all into the water. "Now we'll just let that boil for a few minutes while I go skin this rabbit."

Later that evening Kitty found herself sitting at an old beat up kitchen table that had been used in its time as a butcher block, a workbench and now for eating. She had finished eating a very satisfying bowl of rabbit stew and now watched as Godie strained liquid from the pot of boiled herbs through several layers of fabric from an old shirt. After a while the old woman took a semi clean mug from a shelf and poured it half full with the resulting fluid.

"Now go see if you can get him to drink this – it won't taste too good but it should bring the fever down."

The Marshal was reluctant to drink the brew but by persuading and cajoling Kitty finally got him to take most of it. She herself was tired, the day had been long and full of fear for the life of Matt Dillon and the situation they were in. This shelter, poor as it was, was a refuge from the evils that lay in wait outside in the invading darkness of night. The glow from the oil lamps and the small fire in the hearth gave her hope that all would be well as she sat by the bed where Matt was lying. From time to time he would mumble words from a dream – or possibly a fevered nightmare, then at other times he was so quiet it would worry her, after all she had no idea about the concoction that Godie had brewed. She held his hand and at last placed her head on the quilt next to his chest and closed her eyes.

It didn't seem long before a gentle hand touched her on her shoulder.

"You need to get some rest – I'll sit with him for a while."

Godie indicated a small pile of blankets and a pillow laid out near the hearth. Kitty wanted to argue but did not have the energy. As soon as she lay on the makeshift bed, her exhausted body took refuge in sleep. Vaguely in the background she was aware that Godie was talking to Matt but even that could not keep her awake.

Godie had taken the boiled plants from the brew she had made, and mashed them together to form a poultice. Gently she packed them over the inflamed skin around the wound from the arrow and applied a bandage to hold them firmly in place.

"There now Sonny, that'll make you feel better soon." For about an hour she continued to talk to him as softly as her prairie roughened voice allowed, nothing special, just rambled memories. Finally she watched as he opened his eyes and looked towards her.

"Well if it ain't about time you woke up and took interest", she said as she picked up a moistened cloth and wiped his face and neck for the hundredth time.

"Kitty?" he asked

"She's resting right now, been sitting with you ever since you got here."

It took him a while to digest that fact.

"That's some woman you've got there Sonny."

He smiled and closed his eyes.

"She cares about you, you know. Done nothing but fuss over you since you got here. Pretty obvious there's something between you two."

Dillon had no answer.

"Seems you feel about the same way. There's some kind of bond between you two that runs pretty deep, I'd say."

Again he had no reply, just turned his head slightly to look away from her.

"You listen to me now Matt Dillon. She is a strong gal, well able to take care of herself, and you too, when the chips are down," she added. "Maybe you should do something about that."

"Godie… you know.. I can't as long as.." he didn't have the strength to continue his usual argument.

"Well you just get yourself a little more sleep there Sonny."

She pulled the faded quilt up around his shoulders and sat back in the old chair that supported her. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

xXx

Kitty awoke from her palette on the floor by the hearth. The fire had burned itself out and the small shack was quite chilled. She looked over to where Matt was sleeping. He seemed quieter now. Godie was asleep in an old rocking chair set beside the bed.

Carefully she pushed the blanket and old quilt from on top of her and searching in the wood box found some small kindling to restart the fire in the hearth. Gradually the flames began to rise up from the embers and it wouldn't be long until the cold air would be driven away.

She went over to check on Matt – indeed he looked much improved from last night, without the flushed look of fever on his face. Godie opened her eyes and looked over at lawman, then she looked to Kitty "He slept well last night after that medicine, I think by tomorrow you'll be able to travel on to Fort Wallace."

By that evening Matt was up and around – admittedly wearing a home made sling for his left arm to help ease the strain on his shoulder. Godie sat watching him and Kitty as they fixed supper and got the wagon ready to leave next morning. The old woman was feeling happy that "Sonny" had someone so special in his life.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Now you remember what I told you Sonny," Godie was replacing the dressing on Matt's shoulder. "That is a fine young woman you have there, you need to do the right thing before you lose out."

Matt said nothing, just winced a little as Godie tied the last bandage in place.

"And be sure you let the doctor at the Fort look at this when you get there."

"I'll see he does." Kitty reached out and hugged Godie. The old woman was roughened by the life she lived, but in her own way she was as kind and gentle as anyone the saloon owner had ever met. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Just be sure and drop by when ever you pass this way. Now remember if you head north a little and then turn northwest you will hit the Smoky Hill Trail and that will take you directly to Fort Wallace. There are quite a few army patrols that way so you shouldn't have a problem with Indians."  
"I'll find it," Matt assured her as he handed Kitty up onto the wagon.

"And don't you do all the driving Sonny – you need to rest that arm some."

"Yes Godie." He touched his hat, released the break and urged the horses forward. The animals had appreciated the day or two's rest, and willingly headed out along the uneven path. It was little more than an animal track across the rough prairie land but Godie had assured them that the wagon could get through if they just kept heading north.

Around noon they came across an army patrol and not long after that they found the Smokey Hill Trail. This was one of the main routes west taken by countless wagon trains of hopeful people in search of a better life and the tracks that they had left behind made it easy to follow. Most of the bigger boulders had been cleared and as long as they watched for places that had washed out, the going was easy compared with the way they had come since leaving Godie.

It was almost dark before they pulled into Fort Wallace. As the heavy wooded gates closed behind them, Kitty finally felt that they were safe. Matt had words with the duty sergeant and they were immediately shown to the commandant's office.

xXx

The room was impeccably clean and meticulously tidy. As Kitty looked around she began to feel conscious of her unkempt appearance with her hair hanging loose and her clothes torn and stained with dirt from the prairie and a little blood from when she had tended Matt's injury.

Major Mike Trammel sat behind his desk, a brisk fire burning in the fireplace to his right and several oil lamps placed around the walls adding to the ambient glow.

"Do sit down," he invited after greeting his visitors. He had his sergeant pull up two chairs. "Can I offer you a drink?"

They both declined before Matt dug in his pocket and produced the letter Kitty had received, asking her to come visit Billy Critt.

The Major did not have a lot of information to add but he did confirm that Lieutenant Critt was still in the infirmary and would be extremely grateful that Miss Russell had gone to all the trouble of making the trip. He had been really anxious to see her although never told the commandant why – just that she was a friend of the family.

He instructed his sergeant to show them to some guest quarters so they could clean up after their long trip, and make arrangements to take care of their wagon and horses.

"And Marshal," he added as they turned to leave, "you had best let one of our medical staff take a look at that shoulder."

They were pleased to find they had been assigned two adjoining rooms at one end of a building housing officer's quarters. The sergeant told them that he would return in an hour to take them to see Lieutenant Critt. Kitty used the time to wash up and fix her hair. She had one clean dress left in her carpetbag that had been brought in from the wagon.

When Matt knocked on the door connecting their rooms she noticed he had shaved and at least found a clean shirt.

xXx

The Fort's Infirmary was housed in a small building separate from all the other quarters and stables. Just like most of the other structures at the Fort it was built of stone. Once inside Kitty could swear someone had just scrubbed every plank in the floor even the stoves used for heating were clean and shining. The walls were bare – but had been painted with some kind of whitewash.

The sergeant led them through a ward with about six cots on each side. Some were occupied and others were neatly made just waiting for an occupant. A variety of frames and pulley systems hung over beds where soldiers lay with arms or legs in plaster casts.

They stayed closely behind their guide and followed him into a smaller room just off the end of the one they had passed through. Here a young man was sitting in a cane chair on wheels, in front of a small desk. The only other furniture in the room was one of the ubiquitous military style beds and a small scrubbed dresser. There was no color in the room – just white walls, scrubbed floor and the wood of the desk. There was a small stove in the corner for heat and again several oil lamps for light.

The sergeant came to attention rather noisily.

"Sir" he announced loudly, "your visitors are here."

The man in the chair maneuvered around to face the new arrivals. Matt could see an unfinished letter on the desk in front of him; he had obviously been writing before he was interrupted. Several envelopes were ready for the mail and were stacked neatly in a box near his right hand.

"Kitty." His voice was soft, almost gentle, with none of the heavy southern accent he had affected when she had last seen him. He was holding his arms out towards her and Kitty bent over to kiss his cheek, "please excuse me for not getting up," he said to her. "Marshal," he acknowledged Matt, holding out his right hand. "I am so pleased you could both come, I know it could not have been an easy journey." He turned to the other officer "Sergeant, please find some chairs for my guests and some coffee."

The three people in the Spartan room sat in a small huddle around the stove as Critt told his story.

He had taken the stage east from Dodge feeling hurt and dismayed. He could not believe that Kitty, the great friend of his sister, could act in such a way. To associate with those filthy, drunken cowboys. How could she? They were about ten minutes out from Dodge when the passenger sitting across from him leaned forward.

"So you are a friend of Miss Kitty," he said.

"Not any more Sir," Critt had replied. He had gone on to explain how Kitty Russell had been a great friend of his sister – but that had been a long time ago and it now seemed she had forgotten all about that part of her life. She had shamed him.

The man had smiled at him for a while. He was an older gentleman, well dressed with a silver topped cane in his hand.

"I was there and I saw what happened. She just saved your life son," he pronounced. "All your honor and chivalry fades beside what she did so that you could leave town in a stagecoach and not in a wooden box."

Critt admitted he did not understand at first but as their journey continued the man explained that Kitty was a smart intelligent woman with a heart of gold. He told how she helped families, who through no fault of their own had no money to buy food or clothes for their children. How she often fed poor Louis, the town drunk, when he was down on his luck. How she ran an honest saloon and did not tolerate mistreatment of the girls who worked for her or allow crooked dealers to cheat young cowboys out of their hard earned money. She could control a whole bar room of drunken cowboys with just a few words because most of them respected her and what she stood for, but most of all how she ran a thriving business and stood her ground in a world dominated by men.

It had taken a long time but the words the man had spoken went around and around in Critt's head till at last, thinking back on the things that he had seen, it dawned on him that they were true.

By the time he got home to New Orleans he felt a different kind of shame. A shame that came from the fact that he sat here on his family's estate, living off of fortunes made by others, generations ago. He had no future or ambition or even purpose in life other than his false pride and honor. He had never really worked a day in his life, what did he know of running a business or helping to expand the frontier of this land? The people he had met in Dodge City had a different kind of pride. They believed in what they were doing, that they were making a difference in the lives of others. They were helping to tame new territories. He was doing nothing.

The more he thought about it, the more Critt became very dissatisfied with his life. At first he thought of going back to Dodge and trying to make amends with Kitty. Maybe he could find a job to do that, at least, had some relevance in that town. Then as sometimes happens an opportunity came his way. The army came to town looking for new recruits. They needed brave strong men to go fight for the frontier. The more he thought about it the more he thought the perfect chance had come his way and he willingly enlisted.  
He found the life rough at first. He had to overcome a lot of hostilities towards his southern ways, but gradually he earned the respect of his fellow recruits and for his part he consciously made changes in his manner.

Somehow, during training the officers had noticed that he was somewhat of a leader. He tried harder, fought harder and trained harder than any of the others. He learned to shoot well and was already a good hand with a sword because of the fencing lessons he had since childhood.

Fort Wallace had not been his first posting – he had already been promoted to corporal by the time he arrived here. There had been several battles with the Cheyenne and Sioux during his first year at the Fort and as a result he had risen rapidly to the rank of Lieutenant. The last battle had been the worst. There was a band of renegade whites riding with the Sioux. The platoon he was leading was protecting a wagon train passing along the Smokey Hill Trail. He never really knew what happened, but he had taken a bullet in his leg – just above the knee. He had woken up in the infirmary here at the Fort and the doctors told him they would have to amputate his leg.

Critt stopped at this part in his story and pulled back the blanket covering his legs – Matt and Kitty were both taken back by the man's honesty – one pant leg was cut and pinned about two inches above where his knee would have been.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Matt said – hardly knowing what else to say. "What are you going to do now?"  
"For a while I had no idea – that was why I wrote to Kitty," he looked over to her and smiled. She in turn reached out for his hand.

"I wasn't looking for pity. I still want to do something – I don't think I can go back to my old life."  
"What about the army?" Matt suggested vaguely, knowing there was really no place for a one legged man.

"They plan to keep me here till this is all healed, maybe fit me for a wooden leg but they warned me that might not be of much use because my knee is gone, after that I am on my own."

"There must be something you can do."

"Believe me I thought long and hard those early days when I was recovering. After I got over the shock and self- pity, I think I came up with an answer. I thought of how you, Marshal, kept order in Dodge, how you helped bring the law to the new lands." He held up his hand to stop Matt from saying anything about the Marshal's service not being the right thing for a man with one leg. "I know I can't chase outlaws and killers across the prairie, but I can study the law and be an attorney. It's a brain that is needed for that, not legs. I can help bring justice to people that way."

Matt looked carefully at the man who had been just been a spoilt kid with pompous ways when he arrived in Dodge. Now somehow he had grown up, faced adversity and come out on top. He reached out his hand to take the lieutenant's.

"I admire you Critt, you have become a man I am proud to call friend. What can Kitty and I do to help you?"

"It is a lot to ask I know, but if I could get to Dodge I could take a train and go back east to one of the law schools there, there is even a school of Law at Tulane, I have been busy writing to all of them to see if I can get accepted. I know there will be a lot for me to learn but I want to do it and I think I am up to the task. I just need a little help to get started if you don't mind taking a cripple along with you on your way home to Dodge. "

Kitty smiled at him.

"Billy, we will be honored to have you ride with us."

Matt sat back and listened while Billy Critt and Kitty talked about old times. The warm glow from the stove was quite pleasant and he had almost lost track of the conversation going on around him when the Sergeant appeared again.

"Lieutenant Critt, Sir. Dr. Evans sends his compliments and says that if it is convenient he has time to see Marshal Dillon now."

"Evans is out CMO – well our only medical officer – but he is really good," Critt explained.

Kitty just looked towards Matt and her eyes told him he had no choice but to follow the sergeant.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Matt followed the sergeant back through the ward they had come through, to a small office to the left of the entranceway. He was not very enthusiastic about the upcoming ordeal – but he did make a promise to Godie and more than that, Kitty was right here to add her persuasive techniques.

He was shown into a room that was a lot different to Doc's office back in Dodge. As everywhere else he had seen the walls were painted white and the floor was spotlessly scrubbed. Several medicine cabinets were lined up around the sides of the room all with shining glass doors. A typical army desk was in front of the only window with one chair behind it. There were three other simple wooden chairs in the room – but they were all arranged in a straight line along one wall. The stove in the corner warmed the room sufficiently – but that wasn't the kind of cold he noticed. Doc's office was not as spotless, but it was always welcoming. Still this was the army and they did things differently.

A young man was heading towards him with hand outstretched.

"Samuel Evans," he introduced himself.

"Matt Dillon," the lawman replied. He was looking into the face of a man younger than himself – probably by at least ten years. How did a man get to be a Doctor with any experience in that short length of time. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this situation.

He had removed his shirt and Evans had examined the wound in his shoulder.

"I am amazed, Marshal," the doctor was saying. "As you can imagine I see a number of arrow wounds like this, but I have never seen one that was this deep, heal as well and as quickly as you seem to have done. Do you have any idea what plants your friend used to make this poultice?"

"I have no idea, maybe you could ride out there and ask her – but I doubt she'd tell you, she can be quite ornery at times." He smiled to himself at the thought of the encounter.

The doctor was continuing.  
"I know from experience that there are many beneficial medicines hidden in plants. The Indians have a lot of knowledge about them, just think of all the good I could do with a compound like that."

Despite his initial feelings, Matt began to warm to this young doctor. He spoke with passion and energy for his chosen profession and like Doctor Adams he wanted to use his knowledge to benefit anyone under his care.

"I think you should keep that arm in a sling for another week or so – just to make sure the muscles around your shoulder heal well, but I don't see any problem. Come back and see me before you leave and I'll put another clean dressing on it for you."

Dillon thanked the doctor and made his way back to the rooms he and Kitty had been assigned. She was already there and of course anxious to know what the doctor had said. He told her about Evans's interest in Godie's medicine, it wasn't surprising since he knew that the woman had lived out there alone on the prairie since long before the first time he had met her, many years ago. She had probably learnt much from the Indians and undoubtedly some by her own trial and error.

The Fort was never totally quiet – even at night there were patrols keeping watch and from time to time footsteps could be heard outside as the soldiers made their rounds. For Kitty and Matt the sounds provided a sense of security after all the nights on the prairie. It also afforded them a kind of privacy and relative comfort that they had not experienced in a while. The rooms where small and barely furnished, but Matt was happy to see that the beds were a little larger than the standard army cots.

Sitting down on one he began easing out of his shirt.

"You look tired Cowboy, you've had a rough few days." She started to help him with his boots. He watched her for a moment or two then he smiled as he looked into her eyes,

"I'm not that tired," he mumbled softly as he pulled her towards him.

The bed did not prove to be all that comfortable, and was nowhere near as spacious as the brass bed above the Long Branch, but as Kitty laid her head on Matts good shoulder, the rest of the world faded away. The familiar feel of him gave her all the comfort she needed.

xXx

The following day Kitty found herself spending a lot of time just talking with Billy Critt and listening to his stories from the years since she had last seen him. In the evening all three of them were invited to dinner with the camp commandant and his wife.

The food was far better than anything they had eaten in a long time, and Kitty especially enjoyed the knowledge that no one would come looking for Matt half way through.

Dillon in his turn, was getting anxious to return to Dodge and as they were leaving after a pleasant evening of wining and dining, he discussed his intention of pulling out the next day.

"I think Lieutenant Critt was hoping to travel with you Marshal. The army was planning to give him a medical discharge, but any paperwork involved can easily be forwarded to your office in Dodge City. Provided Dr. Evans has no reservations I have no problem with that."

As it turned out it was two more days before the threesome left Fort Wallace to return to Dodge. The army gave them an escort for the first part of the trip. Major Mike Trammel had told them he would send a telegram to the commander at Fort Dodge asking him to send a platoon out to meet them, but Matt had already met Captain Philip Hanson and thought they would be safer by themselves.

The return trip took them five days. Billy Critt found that he was able to do most things – he was certainly well able to drive the wagon, which left Matt free to scout the trail ahead and keep them out of any unnecessary trouble.

The man that Critt had become impressed Dillon. He did not once complain about the crutches he needed for getting around, and Matt knew from his own experiences how uncomfortable and frustrating they could be. The army had totally changed him from the immature city boy that had got off the stagecoach in Dodge. Somehow he wished he could have met up with him before he had lost his leg. He would like to have seen the army officer in action. Critt, on his part, was determined to take his share of chores on the trip back to Dodge, and took his turn at night watch so that duty didn't fall totally on Dillon.

They pulled into Dodge late in the afternoon. The Marshal drove the wagon along Front Street and after leaving Kitty at the Long Branch he took Critt along to the Dodge House to get a room. He was just leaving the hotel and planning to take the wagon along to the livery when Moss Grimmick met him.

"Saw you pullin' in Marshal. Everything all right? Town's been quiet since you been gone, that deputy from Hayes didn't have much to do."

Dillon smiled to himself, hoping it would stay that way for a while longer.

"I'll take care of the wagon and your horse for you Marshal – I know you'll want to go across and check on things at the jail."

Matt stood and watched the wagon as it moved on down the street, then went to see what had been happening during the time he'd been gone. There was one prisoner in the cells that Dave Cummins – the deputy, was going to take back to Hayes with him, other than that all was quiet.

That evening he sat with Kitty, sipping on a glass of whisky at the back table of the Long Branch.

"I need to tell you, I'm glad that you talked me into going to Fort Wallace Kitty, I'm glad I have seen the man that Billy Critt has become. I hope he gets the chance to go to law school, I think he'd be a good attorney."

Kitty touched his hand and smiled into his eyes.

"Thanks for saying that Matt – there were a few times out there that I felt guilty that I ever persuaded you to take that trip."

They both laughed and Matt lifted his glass

"Here's to Billy Critt,"he said.

About a week later a letter came for Critt – he had been accepted into the Law School at Tulane, the Major at Fort Wallace had written such a good letter of recommendation that they could not turn him down. He would be able to live at home with his family, which would make everything so much easier.

It was a cool morning with the suggestion of winter in the air when the Marshall and Miss Kitty helped the ex army lieutenant up into the stagecoach on the first leg of his journey home to New Orleans. He felt a lot different to the last time he had left Dodge, this time he had friends to wish him well and a purpose ahead of him. As Kitty and Matt stood watching the stage heading out along Front Street they both knew that Billy Critt would have some tough times ahead but he had turned out to be a man with great strength of character and they felt sure he would return in a few years ready to put that law degree into practice.

END


End file.
